


Testing the Waters

by Rizobact



Series: Festival of the Five [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Demisexual Prowl, Festival of the FIve, First Time, M/M, Magnets, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 11:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10385430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rizobact/pseuds/Rizobact
Summary: The whole idea of wanting to interface with anyone is completely new to Prowl, but he trusts Jazz to help him take his first shallow steps into the depths of passion.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Since this winter has been a bit OMGlifejustexploded for several people I know, including many of the people in my writer’s group, we did a challenge to just write _something_ and then discuss it to help pick up everyone’s motivation. I took the chance to explore Prowl and Jazz’s first true sexual encounter in the Festival of the Five AU :)
> 
> This story is set a little ways into their year of living together in courtship, but doesn’t immediately follow the events of Winner Takes All. Some time has passed and Jazz’s (physical) injuries are fully healed, and they’ve begun to get more comfortable with each other — comfortable enough to begin taking things to the next level.

Prowl had never interfaced with anyone before Jazz. More than that, he’d never wanted to interface with anyone before Jazz. The desire simply hadn’t been there. Even now, with Jazz officially courting him, he wasn’t sure that’s what the strange new feelings he was having really were. How would he know, after all? He had nothing to compare them to. Maybe it was just curiosity, which, once satisfied, would fade, leaving Jazz _un_ satisfied with him as a potential bondmate. 

Fear of disappointing Jazz made him hesitant to even try, but Jazz had been patient with him. He let Prowl test simpler things first: hugs, cuddles. Kisses. Prowl hadn’t gotten tired of kissing Jazz yet. Could interfacing be like that, he wondered? Something that, once he was no longer curious, he would still want to do? 

There was really only one way to find out.

It might feel overwhelming at first, Jazz had warned him. As inexperienced as Prowl was, Jazz insisted they start with something simple. Something to test the waters, he said, that would either satisfy his curiosity… or fan his desire.

He’d promised they could stop at any time. All Prowl had to do was say the word. But now, after finally agreeing to let Jazz do this, speech was the farthest thing from his processor. The smaller black and white mech hadn’t even done anything yet, but the way Jazz stepped up behind him, just shy of touching him, and reached out with a soft whisper to close the final distance between them with a name — his name — made him tremble with anticipation.

“Prowl.” 

Jazz’s perfectly pitched voice struck him like a bell and set him ringing. All of his systems ground to a halt, his world slowing and narrowing to that single input. His advanced analytical processor, usually so capable, failed to provide any useful insight or output. He had no precedent for this. In the silence of his processor, filled with Jazz’s voice, Prowl knew only one thing.

He wanted more.

“Prowl, Prowl,  _ Prowl _ .” 

Jazz began reciting his name like a mantra, and Prowl would have begged him to keep going if he hadn’t been afraid of accidentally making him stop. He could feel the displaced air from Jazz’s lips against the side of his helm, feel the sound caressing his audial, the vibrations echoing through his frame. A nearly subvocal hum in Jazz’s voice built with every repetition until Prowl was able to identify it clearly as a note of desperation and longing, and it shook him to his core.

“Prowl,” Jazz sighed reverently. The pull of his next intake drew air sharply across Prowl’s audial, whistling coldly before being replaced by all the combined heat of Jazz’s frame and emotions, compressed into a single word.

“Prowler!”

Now it was Prowl’s turn to gasp for air. He’d cursed that nickname since the day Jazz had given it to him, but hearing it like this? Filled with every ounce of Jazz’s unrestrained desire? He  _ needed  _ Jazz to say it again! 

“Prowler,” Jazz obliged, answering the unspoken plea in Prowl’s field by leaning in to form the word directly against his plating. Light and fire spread from the point of contact, travelling through Prowl and igniting his frame in ways he had no words to describe.

“Haahh!” Prowl gasped again. Had Jazz brought his hands up to steady his shivering doorwings? Or had they only started to shake once those fingers found purchase along their edges? Deft strokes pressed firmly down the sides of his doorwings before spreading out over the broad, flat surfaces of the panels, smoothing over the sleek metal in a physical caress Jazz matched with the waves of his EM field.

_ “Pro~owl...” _

That electric voice kept purring, deep, rhythmic, melodic. Magnetic pulses began radiating from Jazz’s palms across Prowl’s doorwings, rolling with the symphony of sensation already pouring through him. How was he  _ doing  _ that? How was it Jazz could keep adding more and more, and still it wasn’t enough?

“Prowl, Prowler, oh,  _ Prowl!” _

“Aaahh!” This time Prowl let out more than a gasp. With a cry, his cooling fans spun up to their highest setting. He arched into Jazz’s hands, throwing his helm back and biting his glossa in a desperate attempt to keep a mantra of his own from bursting past his lips. Then Jazz’s mouth skimmed down along his jaw to murmur against the delicate cabling exposed in his throat, his lips were no longer forming proper words through the tremors Prowl suddenly realized were coming from  _ both  _ of them. The knowledge that Jazz was as deeply affected as he was shattered his composure and the words came pouring out.

“Please,” he begged, not even sure what he was asking for. “Please, please, please.” It was all too new, too  _ much; _ Prowl struggled against a building tension he didn’t understand, trying to remember how to think and failing. “Please!”

Fortunately, Jazz seemed to know what he needed without Prowl having to articulate it. In one swift movement he brought himself completely flush against Prowl’s back, left hand on the sensitive connectors between Prowl’s doorwings while the right wound around to his front, resting on his chest. With the softest brush of his cheek against Prowl’s, Jazz raised his helm to his audial and sang out softly one more time. 

The sound crackled like lightning all the way down to his spark.

_ “Prowl!” _

_ “Jazz!!”  _

Prowl shouted as what could only be an overload swept through him for the first time. He shook as the excess buildup of charge overflowed the bounds of his systems to arc over his plating, escaping and grounding through Jazz. On either side of his frame, Jazz’s hands popped and flared with magnetic dissonance, making his spark throb between them. Lost in a haze of unfamiliar and completely, agonizingly blissful pleasure, Prowl couldn’t tell if Jazz was doing it on purpose or if he too was beyond control, caught up in the throes of their combined passion.

Prowl quaked in Jazz’s arms, pressing himself closer and closer to the mech behind him like he was trying to occupy the same space. Perhaps Jazz had the same idea, as his arms tightened around Prowl almost to the point of pain. Finally, inevitably, it reached a point where they physically could not get any closer. They stood, overextended, two halves of a single incandescent sculpture.

Then, like a tension wire inside him had snapped, Prowl had nothing left. His strength drained away with the last of his charge, leaving him with nothing to hold himself upright. He felt his legs give out, collapsing under his own weight as his vents labored harshly to cool his glowing frame.

Somehow Jazz caught him, supporting and guiding him as they sank in a controlled slide to the floor. The hand on his back came up to stoke his helm while the other remained where it was, fingers tracing slow circles right above Prowl’s spark.

“Thank you,” Jazz whispered gently, still holding him close. “Thank you.”

“No,” Prowl finally managed to gasp out, lifting a still-trembling hand to Jazz’s face. “Thank  _ you.” _


End file.
